Riley
W hen my big brother passed away five months ago, a part of me died too. Isn’t that cliched? It’s true, though, because Luis was my only family. My person. My safe place. Ever since he failed to come home, the same question has swirled round and round in my head, keeping me from a full night’s sleep.
What the hell do I do now?
Without my big brother, without my family, without someone to visit for the holidays and someone to call and check in on just because? With this constant dull ache, gnawing at my ribs, and this void cracked open inside me? Seriously, what do I do?
I have all this love for him still. So much love, I’m drowning in it. I’m full to the brim with longing and anger and bitterness that Luis ever left me at all, that he had to go and be a hero and leave me behind, and god, I feel shitty for that.
So, yeah. I’m twenty two years old, and already a grief-ridden basket case. What the hell do I do now?
Apparently, my answer was: quit my job and leave my hometown behind. Pack up my things in my beat-up old car, and force the poor vehicle up those winding mountain paths until we got here.
Here, where Luis and I spent all those summers. Here, where I thought maybe I could feel close to him again.
It didn’t work. I didn’t feel closer to my big brother, just lonelier than ever—until a few hours ago. Until Cade.
As soon as I realized he knew my brother, something knit together inside me. Even when I thought he was kicking me out of the lakehouse, I couldn’t help but feel so freaking glad. Here was this walking, talking evidence that Luis did exist; that he touched the wider world; that other people miss him too.
And Cade is grieving for my brother, that much is clear. It’s right there in the harsh lines on his face and the rigid set to his jaw. It’s in the gravelly tone of his voice and the way he winces whenever he says Luis’s name. He’s wound tight: a taut, knotted ball of hurt.
My kindred spirit.
I never want this man to leave.
That said, night falls before it really hits me what I’ve done: I’ve invited a strange man, someone I’ve never met before today, to stay in the cabin with me tonight. There are separate rooms, sure, a wall between my bedroom and the living space, but it’s still small. We’re still firmly in each other’s space, and this is such a leap of trust.
I’m not scared, though. Not at all. Maybe it’s crazy, but even though Cade is a stranger to me, even though we’ve never met before today, some bone-deep instinct tells me I’m safe with this man.
He’s soothing. A balm for my raw, battered soul.
And honestly, once the sun sinks and animals cry out in the mountains, I’m glad he’s here. With his strong muscles and calm demeanor, I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in a while, and though he tries to give me space after our simple dinner, I can’t help seeking him out on the deck. Being around him is such a rush, and I want another hit.
Cade has stretched out on the wooden boards, his arms pillowed beneath his head as he gazes up at the waxy moon. His long dark hair is tied back, and thick stubble shadows his jaw. Seeing his lithe, powerful body stretched out like that, at ease and utterly confident, it’s easy to imagine him making himself at home in any landscape. Mountains or desert or arctic wastes. Adapting to any challenge.
“You look comfy.”
Cade grins up at me in the darkness, starlight casting his features in a silvery glow. Those eyes look extra blue in this light. His biceps bulge from the way he’s folded his arms, and a tattoo wraps around one elbow, disappearing into the sleeve of his gray shirt. “I’ve slept in worse places, believe me.”
“Yeah, I bet.” My knees crack as I lower to sit cross-legged beside him, the wooden boards scraping at my bare legs. Even up in the mountains, it’s a warm night. Hot and sticky. “Will you tell me about it?”
It’s a big ask, I know—Luis was always so tight-lipped about his career. He’d sugarcoat everything when I asked him about it, not wanting to burden me with the ugly stuff, the inevitable harder things, until I just wanted to shake his shoulders and scream that he wasn’t fooling anyone.
I saw the shadows he brought home with him on leave. I saw them.
But I’ve brought two beers out onto the deck with me tonight. An offering. Beads of condensation cling to the glass bottles, and it’s just as well, because my mouth goes dry every time I look at this man. My brother’s best friend.
Cade sits up with a deep sigh, taking a beer with quiet thanks. “You mean tell you about Luis?”
I lift one shoulder. “About all of it.”
Because sure, I want to hear every last scrap of information about my brother, probably over and over again until Cade’s sick of repeating it. But my curiosity goes a lot further than that when it comes to this man. I want to hear all about him , too.
The veteran tilts his head, considering me. Shadows seem to gather on one side of his neck, and I realize with a jolt that it’s because the skin is rough there. Warped and scarred. How did I not notice before?
“Some of them aren’t happy stories.”
I can’t help it: I let out a snort. “No kidding.”
Cade’s mouth twitches. And when he lifts his beer silently, I clink our bottles together, a warm, gooey sensation spreading through my insides before I’ve even had a single sip.
Because I know before he even begins to speak, his low voice rumbling beside the lake, that Cade won’t sugarcoat or dodge. He won’t spare me anything.
Sure enough: “I got these scars in an explosion three months ago. Saw you notice them just now. Well, we were in a convoy, moving diplomats between cities, and Luis was already gone by then. I was so fucking raw from that…”
I raise my bottle, taking a long sip of cool beer, and feel Cade’s story settle over me like a blanket. Like a steady hand on my shoulder.
This is what it feels like: that miraculous thing that I’ve never had before, not fully. Not even with my big brother, not with his overprotective instincts getting in the way.
Mutual trust. Laying yourself open for another person.
I tip my head up to the stars, breathe deeply, and listen.
…At last.
* * *
“There’s a town on the other side of the mountain pass. I’ll probably head there. Hole up and find work in the area.”
I blink, elbow-deep in soap suds the next morning. We’re in the tiny cabin kitchenette together, washing up our breakfast things; mugs and plates clink together in the soapy water, and tendrils of steam curl into the bright morning air.
“You’re sticking around?” Damn the shaky note of hope in my voice. Could I be any more obvious? If my brother’s best friend gets even a hint of how badly I want him here, he’ll surely run for the hills. Desperate is not a good look.
Cade grunts, slotting a clean plate onto the drying rack. “That okay?”
“Yeah.”
Yeah. Understatement of the century. I barely slept last night, I was so chewed up thinking about how I’d only just met Cade, and he was gonna leave already. One night , he’d said, so I figured I’d never see him again, and god, that thought stole my breath. I haven’t been this calm, this centered since my brother died, and now I have to give that up?
Am I okay with him sticking around? Is he kidding me?
“You could always stay here a while longer. In the cabin, I mean.”
Now that’s a dumb suggestion. Talk about pushing my luck. The veteran might not have minded sleeping out on the deck last night, but that doesn’t mean he won’t want a bed going forward. And am I ready to invite him into mine? Could I ever be that brave? Would he even want me that way?
Cade is silent, frowning into the sink. “I could fix your hot water, I guess.”
He was super grumpy this morning when he saw me boiling water on the stove to wash up with. Kept cursing Luis under his breath. If anyone else insulted my brother like that, I’d ream them the hell out, but I know with Cade it comes from a place of love.
Exasperated love for Luis. I know that sensation well.
“The windows, too,” I point out, because if Cade needs excuses to stay here, hey—I’ve got a whole list of ‘em. “You could fix up the whole cabin! I’ll pay you, obviously, and then—”
“No payment.”
I stutter to a halt. No payment? So what, this man is just gonna fix up the whole lakehouse, the one that he rightly owns, then drive away and leave it to me? That makes no sense.
“You can take the bed,” I offer instead, because no way can he give all that free labor and sleep on the floor.
“,” he says flatly. “Don’t.”
We stand side by side, staring at each other. My fingertips are puckered, plunged deep in the soapy water, and Cade’s squeezing a dish towel tight. His jeans are faded and worn, hugging his muscular thighs, and his dark red t-shirt clings to his strong chest.
God, his eyes are blue. They’re that cool, milky blue, like a glacial mountain lake.
“It’s agreed, then.” Cade reaches out and I go utterly still, heart thumping, but he brushes a fleck of soap suds from my cheek. My skin tingles like crazy where he touched me. “I’ll stay and fix up the cabin, and I’ll sleep on the deck. And once everything is fixed…”
“It could take ages. Months, even.”
Please let it take months.
Cade’s smile is crooked. Are there dimples hiding under that stubble?
“Once everything is fixed… I’ll sleep better at night knowing you’re safe and secure. And I know Luis would like that too.”
My brother’s name brings a pang to my chest, and a change comes over Cade as well. Something shutters behind his eyes, and he steps away from me. Breaks the tension simmering between us.
“I’ll get started in a few minutes,” he says, threading the dish towel through the drawer handle, then he strides away, leaving me alone.
“No rush,” I mumble, though he’s well out of earshot, the wooden boards of the deck outside creaking under his weight.
Believe me.
No rush at all.